St. Margaret s Uniting Church Mooroolbark Sunday 31 st August, 2014 Refugee & Migrant Sunday READING Matthew 25:34-36, 40 An asylum seeker speaks: I do not know what will happen after I die. I do not want to know. But I would like the Potter to make a whistle from the clay of my throat. May this whistle fall into the hands of a naughty child and the child to blow hard on the whistle continuously with the suppressed and silent air of his lungs and disrupt the sleep of those who seem dead to my cries. This note came from an asylum seeker in detention in Australia. I find the image of whistle given to a naughty child profoundly moving. It is a strange thing but whistle-blowers are not appreciated much in our culture. They are the ones who alert us to things that are wrong. We need whistle blowers but usually they cop far more than they deserve for telling the truth. Because the truth can be really difficult to hear. For if we hear of injustice we have two basic choices. We can act to right whatever is wrong, or we can choose not to act. Choosing to act can be difficult. It can be difficult because often it is not a popular thing to do. It can be difficult because it might require a lot of hard work. It can be difficult because if we upset those who create or maintain injustice, then we might become victims of injustice too.
P a g e 2 More often than not, people choose not to act. A simple approach is to pretend whatever the issue is, it is not our problem. We might be happy to leave the issue of border protection to the government. After all, what does that have to do with you or me. But when a whistleblower blows loud and clear, it can be hard to ignore the message. So typically those who should act will discredit the whistleblower in some way. When the church takes a stand in the public sphere, our politicians will often tell us that religion should be kept private, that we should keep out of politics. I wonder what Jesus would have to say about that? An asylum seeker wants a naughty child to blow the whistle on what happens in detention centres, what happens to those seeking asylum in Australia. It can be hard speaking out against systems that oppress. It can be hard for many reasons. Sometimes it is not as clear as a whistle blown. We hear of boat arrivals as illegals, as queue jumpers, as un-australian. We hear of deterrence and why it is so important. Border protection is an important thing for any country. Our government has a right to ensure that those who make passage into Australia do so in an ordered manner. But Australia a long time ago made a commitment that all people have a right to seek asylum. And if it can be proven that those seeking asylum have a legitimate fear of persecution in its many forms then asylum seekers become refugees. But when we hear of people smugglers, it can be confusing again. I don t want nasty people in nearby countries to profit from the most vulnerable people, those desperate to face Australian justice rather than that of nearby countries. I don t want these people to risk their lives on leaky boats and arrive here with nothing while smugglers make a living by bottom-feeding. It can be confusing. I wonder what Jesus would say about it?
P a g e 3 A minister colleague alerted me to these words that might be sung to the song: Were you there when they crucified my Lord. Were you there when those boats were turned away Were you there when those lives were lost at sea Were you there when our nation turned its face They are words that confront like a whistleblower. They are words I find challenging to hear myself, wondering if I am doing enough to make a difference. They are words that provoke as I remember I benefit from being a migrant to this country. My family arrived by boat in the 1950s, much like many families including that of our Prime Minister. Like the PM, I benefit from migration policies that allowed entry for the price of 10. In those days it was for white people, but over time attitudes have changed. I love going to Richmond for authentic Vietnamese food. Or for good Chinese food I can go to Springvale or Box Hill. Melbourne has many different cultural festivals art, theatre, song, dance, customs, food! One of the blessings of moving from Tasmania to Melbourne has been imbibing the rich and diverse nature of this city. Refugees and migrants have given an incredible amount to Australia. And I, for one, am proud to be Australian, and grateful for the gift given me. In some way I feel like I ought be the naughty child and grab that whistle and blow it loud and proud as personal thanks but also to highlight what is so wrong with public policy today. I wonder what Jesus might think about that? There is no doubt that those who seek asylum are among the least. These are people who are desperate through no fault of their own. They are ethnic minorities persecuted like the Jews in Nazi Germany. They are sometimes people of faith persecuted for believing something other than the powerful. They may be people in fear of their lives Like Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus. Like Moses and his mother.
P a g e 4 Last week we heard the story of how the people of Israel were slaves in Egypt. They were becoming numerous and getting quite strong through working hard for Pharaoh. And Pharaoh began be afraid in case there was an uprising. He issued an edict to protect his people. The new born baby boys of Israel were to be killed. Potentially Moses and his family could have been refugees although God s deliverance came in a different form. Instead Moses mother was able to nurse him, and Moses grew up in the court of Pharaoh. He eventually became leader of the exodus to freedom. But Jesus was not so fortunate. Herod was aware that a baby had been born destined to be king. As local ruler he naturally felt threatened and gave an edict similar to the Pharaoh. Joseph, Mary and Jesus fled to Egypt to seek asylum there. I wonder what Jesus might think about the rights or needs of asylum seekers? I wonder what his attitude might be to fighting unjust powers that God s kingdom may come on earth as it is in heaven? The image Jesus in the breadline is inspired by this passage from Matthew 25. When you did it to the least of these, you did it to me. Here are literally hungry people in need of food. When we welcome, feed, clothe, visit do we ever really imagine that the one we assist could be Jesus?
P a g e 5 Or when we fail to care and be compassionate, do we ever really imagine that we deny Jesus food, clothing, or even asylum? Recently the church council of St. Margaret s became signatory to a letter of protest about asylum seeker policy in this country. Originating from Rev. Dr. Wes Campbell, a Uniting Church minister, the letter begins: This letter is an open-hearted appeal for a Christian response to people seeking asylum in Australia. It is a call to church leaders and people to inject a new urgency as Asylum Seeker policies plumb new depths. For two reasons: one, Australian politicians, including the Minister for Immigration Scott Morrison, and the Prime Minister, declare they are Christian. They make this claim while acting in increasingly brutal ways toward people seeking asylum Secondly, for years church leaders, agencies and congregations have provided and continue to provide, pastoral support for refugees, while also protesting the policies imposed on Asylum Seekers. It appears to suit politicians to have the church s pastoral practical assistance and even critical pronouncements, which may be readily ignored. Regrettably both major parties appear to share this approach. Wes in his own way has become a whistleblower. And many of us want to join in and blow that clay whistle until the powers that oppress and vilify change their ways. It is not a comfortable thing to fight the powers. I know we struggle. In part our ministers of parliament are there legitimately, by the consent of you and me and Australian voters. But what would Jesus do? Where would Jesus be? Is he behind the fences and barbed wire on Manus Island, weeping for Reza Berati and others like him? Is Jesus waiting for us to show up, or stand up? There is something in me that wants to be the naughty child and rock the boat. There is something in me that wants to protest the powers and shine the light on a better way.
P a g e 6 We might wonder what those ways look like. We might feel like we have nothing to give, nothing we can really do. It is not for all of us to write letters like Wes Campbell. It is not for everyone to quietly stand in the offices of our MPs to highlight injustice. It is not for everyone to visit detention centres, although members of St. Margaret s have done just that. But there are things we can do. You, me, all of us. We can pray that God s kingdom come. Be careful what you pray for though, for our God is a mighty God. We can support the fete in November where a large chunk of the proceeds go to support the needs of asylum seekers. We can bring underwear on St. Margaret s day as a fun way of joining in and showing our care for the least of these. And we can protest the stories of politicians, of media and those who fear boats and the people on them. I d like to share a delightful story that is one of standing against oppressive powers and begins with fear but ends with delight at what God can do with us. Jim Wallis writes that when the South African government cancelled a political rally against apartheid, Desmond Tutu led a worship service in St. George's Cathedral. The walls were lined with soldiers and riot police carrying guns and bayonets, ready to close it down. Bishop Tutu began to speak of the evils of the apartheid system how the rulers and authorities that propped it up were doomed to fail. He pointed a finger at the police who were there to record his words: "You may be powerful very powerful but you are not God. God cannot be mocked. You have already lost." Then, in a moment of unbearable tension, the bishop seemed to soften. Coming out from behind the pulpit, he flashed that radiant Tutu smile and began to bounce up and down with glee. "Therefore, since you have already lost, we are inviting you to join the winning side."
P a g e 7 The crowd roared, the police melted away, and the people began to dance. Don't go away, Paul says. Put on your armour and dance. I am inviting you to join the winning side.